


Knight to G5

by JosephineStone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/pseuds/JosephineStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron will never like Malfoy, but a game of chess might make their forced time together go by faster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knight to G5

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** \- [](http://arjd.livejournal.com/profile)[arjd](http://arjd.livejournal.com/)
> 
> **Prompt/Prompt Author:** : _Ron doesn’t understand what his best friend Harry sees in Draco and is less than thrilled about their relationship. Then Harry is injured in the line of duty and lies in a coma in St Mungo’s. Ron and Draco get to know each other at the side of Harry’s bed._ \- [](http://hollys-tree.livejournal.com/profile)[hollys_tree](http://hollys-tree.livejournal.com/)  
> 

  
Ron held Hermione’s trembling hand steady as they, once again, sat beside Harry’s bed at St Mungo’s. Harry had been in a coma for two days. Malfoy sat on the other side of Harry’s bed—not touching him—with his usual blank stare and no emotion in his eyes. Ron never expected him to be weeping over Harry as Cho would have or to fuss over him like Ron’s mother would have, but it always bothered him that he never held his hand like Ginny would have.

Oh, it wasn’t a gender thing; Ron knew that.

Dennis would have wept and his brother Colin would have fussed, if Harry had ever dated either of them, but he was positive if Harry dated anyone other than Malfoy _he_ would have had the decency to hold his boyfriend’s hand. He tried to do as Hermione instructed: to just pretend Malfoy wasn’t there. Malfoy never spoke nor moved to call attention to himself. It didn’t matter; Ron couldn’t ignore his presence even if Malfoy sat under Harry’s invisibility cloak the whole time. No matter how quiet his breathing was, Ron knew he was there, and it bothered him.

Hermione shifted next to him and squeezed his hand letting him know she’d have to leave for work. He looked up as tears escaped her eyes and pulled her to him kissing them away. She stood, smoothing out her robes, and gripped his shoulder then turned to leave. He kissed the top of her hand before she let go, then looked over and caught Malfoy watching them. Their eyes meet for brief moment before Malfoy looked back down at Harry.

They spent hours watching over Harry together—not only this time, but every time something happened to him when he was chasing down criminals—and they never spoke. Ron grew restless with the situation. Every time was the same: Harry woke up, reached for Malfoy, then let his hand drop before he made contact. He would nod hello to Ron if he couldn’t speak and say it if he could. Then he would give both of them a weary, disappointed look that Ron hated. If Hermione was there, she’d hold his hand.

‘Don’t you have work to do?’ The part of Ron too mature to hate Malfoy wished that hadn’t come out in such a harsh, condescending tone. The rest of him was happy it caused Malfoy to glare at him.

‘I have as much of a right to be here as you.’

Ron was glad he said _as much of_ instead of _more of_ , because even though they both knew the latter one was true—Malfoy was Harry’s significant other: _the_ person allowed to be there when only one person was—it would have caused a fight. The last thing Ron wanted Harry to wake up to was Malfoy and him fighting, and their luck would have him wake up at its height. It happened the first time Harry was in brought to St Mungo’s after the start of his relationship with Malfoy.

‘You could at least hold his hand and _pretend_ to be supportive.’

‘And have you glare me as though I’m the one who put him here?’ Malfoy watched Ron. ‘No one needs a room full of tension because I—Merlin forbid—accidentally brush against him with any of you lot in the same room.’ Malfoy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. ‘It’s bad enough without me provoking you, why would I push it?’

Ron wanted to say: _because you always push everything_. At least, Malfoy used to. Ron opened then closed his mouth unsure what to say. _Did_ he glare at Malfoy every time he touched Harry? Even brushed against him? He couldn’t remember, but he probably did when they first came out about their relationship. He was upset about it; they all were, of course. It was Malfoy. He looked at Harry, who twitched in his sleep as though he fought to return to them.

It shouldn’t have stopped Malfoy either way. If it was Ron—or anyone from his family, Hermione even—they would have made a point to always hold his hand, then glare right back. ‘You should hold his hand; I know he wants you to.’

Malfoy relaxed his arms and moved to uncross them, but stopped.

‘We’ll never get used to it, if we never see it.’

He pressed his lips into a thin line, nodded, and looked down at Harry, then uncrossed his arms but smoothed out his robes instead of taking Harry’s hand. He moved closer to Harry, then pulled back again. Then Ron saw it. Malfoy was fighting to keep himself from crying. Hermione had said it never hit her, until she held his hand and felt nothing in return. Ron saw flashes of expressions he thought of as Hermione’s—withheld emotion at the corners of his mouth, calculating worries around his eyes that turned to fear then back again—flicker across Malfoy’s face. His emotions won the fight against his will to be strong in front of Harry’s friends, and Malfoy took Harry’s hand and brought it to his face. His eyes were red; Ron had to look away.

The sight made him more angry than relieved, and he left to give Malfoy some time alone with Harry. Since he left, he went for food. Eating helped. He couldn’t gauge what spiked his anger, but he refused to let it out. Food was always a welcome distraction. It helped his anger fade—though not disappear—and after an hour he could face Malfoy again.

On his way out he decided to pick something up for Malfoy. Ron knew he wasn’t the most observant person—so he shouldn’t have been bothered by it—but Harry had been dating Malfoy for three years and Ron had no idea what he ate. He picked one of Harry’s favourite sandwiches and an apple; everyone liked fruit. Besides he probably didn’t care what he ate at that point. When he came back, he saw he was right: Malfoy ate without even looking to see what was on the sandwich.

They never ate together; that’s what bothered him.

He had envisioned Harry being a big part of his life forever, just like at school; just like Hermione—well, maybe not just like Hermione, but around daily. If he had stayed with Ginny, then they would have been together always, during holidays, birthdays, or just to be together. If it was _anyone_ else, they’d have been welcomed into the family. Instead no one felt comfortable dropping by unannounced at Harry’s; not even him or Hermione. If Harry stopped by to see them, dinnertime would come and he’d need to go home to Malfoy. It made perfect sense, of course, he should go home to his significant other at the end of the day. Ron wanted to invite Harry’s boyfriend over, but stopped himself every time.

No one wanted that. Except Harry; Harry wanted them to get along.

‘How’d it happen?’

Malfoy looked up at him half-surprised Ron spoke and half-unsure what he was asking, so Ron clarified, ‘How did you two—’ he gestured between them and Malfoy nodded to show he understood the question, but took a moment before he answered.

‘It’s rather pathetic—we ran into each other at a pub not long after your sister left him for Quidditch. He was drunk and as soon as I saw him I tried to leave, but he followed me out. Being the senseless fool he is, he grabbed me when I went to Apparate and almost splinched his arm right by his elbow. I laid him on my bed and healed him.’

There was a scar, Ron remembered, but he had never asked about it because they all had so many scars from the war.

‘You don’t really want to hear this.’

‘I asked.’

Malfoy sighed. ‘He was drunk and talking through the whole thing: about the break up and why, and about being attracted to blokes. I didn’t know what to say, so I joked about finally having something in common. Then he kissed me—I thought he was just experimenting and kept waiting for him to leave me—but he never did.’

Harry twitched again and Malfoy squeezed his hand. Ron bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything. It was what he thought he wanted for Harry. It should have helped Ron accept him. He had to get used to it—for Harry.

The next day, Ron brought his chessboard. He couldn’t think of anything else he and Malfoy could do together. Ron let Malfoy start—pawn to e4—then asked, ‘Is there anything you ever wanted to ask us about Harry?’ as his pawn moved to e5 and he watched Malfoy’s face.

‘No.’ Pawn to f4. ‘Your turn.’

‘Why not?’ Ron’s pawn took Malfoy’s on f4.

‘Knight to f3.’ Malfoy kept his eyes focused on the board, and Ron could tell the question bothered him. ‘Because I already know everything about him.’

Ron wasn’t too sure about that. ‘Does he ever talk to you about his childhood? Bishop e7.’ They could never get him to talk about it.

‘Sometimes. Bishop c4. He has nightmares—as I’m sure you know—and we talk about them.’

That hurt, and it must have shown on his face.

‘It’s hard for him to talk about it, but I have nightmares too.’ Malfoy waited for Ron to make his move—Bishop to h4—before he spoke again. ‘We’re lovers; it’s only natural—’

‘No, it’s not.’

Malfoy’s eyes widened, and Ron realised he had taken that the wrong way and added, ‘I’ve known him since he was eleven.’ He was his best mate; there with him through everything. Malfoy was his tormentor.

‘So have I.’

‘Not the same.’ Ron was nauseated—thanks to Hermione he knew the difference between that and nauseous. ‘You know nothing about him.’

Pawn to g3. ‘What did you want me to ask you?’

Ron ignored him. ‘Pawn to g3.’ His pawn took Malfoy’s. Malfoy could never _understand_ Harry like they did.

Malfoy castled. ‘How you two became best mates?’

‘Knight to h6.’ There were plenty of things Malfoy needed learn to be able to make Harry happy.

‘What he was like in school?’ Malfoy rolled his eyes. ‘I was there; I already know. Pawn to d4.’

Ron castled. Like when to back off and let Harry be alone with his thoughts, or how to keep upbeat and smile when Harry felt overwhelmed with his responsibilities.

‘Pawn take g3. What his childhood was like?’

What things to never to mention as they bring memories of people who died with them. ‘Bishop take g3.’

‘I’d rather hear it from him or not know at all. King to g2.’

‘Bishop to g6.’ How he likes his eggs and what food—thanks to a year of camping—to never offer him again.

‘Rook to h1. What he likes to eat?’

‘Queen to f6.’

‘I eat every meal with him daily. Pawn to e5.’

‘Queen to g6.’

Malfoy studied the board. ‘What would be a good gift to give him? King to f1.’

‘Knight to f5.’

‘Rook to g1. He hates material items; trust me, _you_ don’t want to know what he likes for gifts—’

Ron couldn’t take anymore. ‘Stop!’

They both turned to make sure Harry still slept; they shouldn’t fight.

Malfoy took a deep breath. ‘It’s nat—You don’t think I’m good enough for him. If I asked you instead of figuring things out for myself, that would have proved I wasn’t good enough. You wanted me to ask—not just because of that, but also—so you could ask me what you’re too scared to ask him.’

‘Knight to g3.’

‘Just ask me.’ Malfoy watched Ron, and didn’t even glance at the board. After a few minutes Ron gave up waiting for him to make his move and asked,

‘Do you ever talk about the war?’ Ron couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about it; not with Harry after he found out about Harry’s relationship with Malfoy. That was _the_ question. How could Harry forget about the war?

‘Yes.’ Malfoy looked to his left where his and Harry’s hands were intertwined on the bed next him. ‘He doesn’t blame me. King to f2.’

Did Ron blame him? ‘Knight to e4.’ He breathed, tried to calm down, and focused on the game. Malfoy moved—King to e1—then he moved—Bishop to b4—back and forth—pawn to c3, Knight takes pawn, pawn takes Knight, Bishop takes pawn—until Ron could think clearly again. ‘I don’t blame you either.’  
Malfoy gave him a disbelieving look. ‘King to f2. At all?’

‘Not anymore, no.’ Ron’s Queen moved to c6 as he shook his head to emphasise his words. ‘Not after you refused to kill Dumbledore, but you could have come to our side; that would have helped...’ Them all not hate him as much?

‘Bishop to d3.’ Malfoy laughed. ‘You know, that was never an option, and I wouldn’t call what happened _refusing_. Unable to, maybe.’

‘Harry said—then, before—’ Ron gestured between them indicating their relationship. ‘That you were lowering you wand; willing to accept Dumbledore’s offer. Pawn to d5.’

‘But...it had never been offered before. Queen to b6. And I didn’t know Harry witnessed it. Regardless, it was never offered again, either.’

Bishop to e3, Queen to b2, King to f1, pawn to f5, Bishop to d4, Queen took pawn, Bishop took Bishop, Queen took pawn at d5, and Ron decided Malfoy wasn’t so bad after all. He might even beat Ron at chess.

When Hermione came by with food, they were deeply involved in their game of chess. Her mouth hung open at the sight for a moment, before she interrupted them. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Believe it. King to f7.’ Ron smiled at her as he took a sandwich from her hand. ‘You try sitting in a room with someone for a week straight with nothing to do.’

‘We’ve done it before.’ Malfoy took his last move—Knight to g5—and won the game, then nodded to Hermione. ‘Evening.’

She sat on the opposite side of the bed and pulled Harry’s hand into her lap. They both noticed her stiffen when she saw that Malfoy had his other one.  
#

Three days later Harry woke up.

Ron saw Harry squeeze Malfoy’s hand and a smile spread across Harry’s face as he turned toward him.

‘Hey.’ Harry’s voice was rough and Malfoy helped him with a glass of water as Harry tried to open his eyes and sit up. He tried to laugh. He always tried to shrug off his accidents; he hated that people worried about him and he didn’t want to quit his job. He squinted against the light in the room and Malfoy dimmed it for him, then Harry joked, ‘You should give me a blow job, before anyone gets in here.’

‘Mate, I didn’t need to hear that.’

Harry jumped as much as his body would let him. ‘Ron?’ He shifted and tried to see his friend sitting on the other side of him. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Just waiting for my best mate to come out of a coma for over four days.’

Malfoy sent for a Mediwizard with his free hand, as Harry realised that they were both with him _and_ Malfoy was holding his hand. Harry pulled Malfoy’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it. By then Harry could open his eyes and he stared at Malfoy whilst he thanked Ron for being there for him. His breath was shaky and Ron feared he might cry.

The Mediwizard arrived then and Ron excused himself to let his family know as they checked Harry over. Within an hour the whole family was there, glad to see Harry alive, well, and—after a night of potions and rest—allowed to go home. Ron couldn’t follow their conversation. All he could do was feel the tension grow thick around him and watch as Harry’s grip on Malfoy’s hand grew tighter as he feared Malfoy would let go.

As Malfoy’s finger tips turned blue, Ron cleared his throat and cut off whoever had been talking. ‘We should let him rest.’

‘Quite right.’ Mr Weasley smiled at Ron and pulled his protesting wife back from Harry’s bed telling her: ‘We’ll see him in a couple of days for dinner.’

‘Right.’ Harry looked toward Malfoy. ‘ _We’ll_ be there, right?’

Unsure, Malfoy glanced at Ron, who gave him a quick nod before answering, ‘Right.’


End file.
